Fleshy Bite Sized Bits
by luuluulove
Summary: a series of slashy drabbles featuring Columbus and Tallahassee doing not-really dirty things.
1. Chapter 1

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Coarse

He'd never actually kissed anyone. He'd thought about it, of course. Thought of soft, warm lips meeting his. Cautious, shy and gentle. It was how hed always thought his first kiss would be. But that was before Zombieland, before everything had gone to Hell. Now he was being held down, SUV carpet leaving burns on his arms, coarse stubble scraping against his chin, and chapped lips pressing down on his in uncoordinated lust.

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Decadent

Tallahassee was a crazy motherfucker, Columbus knew that. Expected it. Came to depend on it. But this was unfair, insane, and completely unappreciated. He had no idea where Tallahassee had found the god damn costume, or how the insane jack ass expected him to defend himself wearing it, and he certainly did not think it was quite as hilarious as Wichita and Little Rock seemed to think. He tried glaring at them.

"Hugh knew how to dress his bitches." Tallahassee stated as he eyed Columbus, who began sputtering at the older man. "Wadda ya say spitfuck? Wanna be my bunny?"

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Furtive

Furtive hands were reaching for him, quiet and unnoticed by the other occupants of the Hummer. Tallahassee wouldn't have even realized the boy was touching him if it hadn't been for the cold in his fingers. He glanced over to Columbus, but the kid was looking out the window.

He looked down to the fingers barely touching his hand and frowned. A moment later he let out a put-upon grunt, fixed his eyes out his own window, and grabbed Columbus' hand in his own, startling the boy and calling attention to the girls in the front seat. Wichita turned, saw their clasped hands, and averted her gaze back to the road.

"So, does this mean you two are butt fuck buddies now?" Little Rock asked.

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Hunger

Columbus had always been a shut in. No dates, no friends, no parties, and certainly no one night stands. He'd never kissed and never gotten laid. He did have the internet, of course, and tended to make use of it on those lonely Friday nights. But even back then he'd never had a very active libido. He guessed it was because he never known what real sex was like, because he knew for a fact that right now all he wanted to do was jump that back water hick and get fucked senseless. Tallahassee squinted down at the boy beside him.

"Round two?" Columbus whispered hopefully. Tallahassee's squint became a glare as he reached over for his pants and a blanket.

"Sure, you go right ahead." Tallahassee stated, pulled his pants on and rolled over and promptly slipped into dreams. Columbus sighed.

"Its just you and me." He muttered forlornly to his sweat covered palm.

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Innocent

Tallahassee set his gaze on the younger man. Curly brown hair stretched out in the sopping rain, sweatshirt drenched and probably weighing twice as much as it should. Columbus was smiling, eyes closed, arms outstretched. It was childish and cute and so damn innocent that Tallahassee had to look away. Look down to their feet where blood and gore had slipped off of them in the downpour, trailing off into the street. When his gaze returned to the boys face he saw eyes looking at him, expectant, waiting for something.

"God damn it kid." he muttered before closing the distance between them, wrapping his fingers in brown wet locks, and sealing their mouths together. He stumbled towards the Hummer, pinning Columbus against the door, biting the boys throat and feeling soft, partially calloused fingers working their way into his rain soaked pants. 'No, not really innocent after all' Tallahassee thought.

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Authors Note:

So, they don't all have the word in them, but WTFE, it's mostly about the theme, anyway. Also, for the truly slow (as I know I can sometimes be) in Decadent, Columbus has been put in a bunny suit. Presumably while sleeping, but who knows, maybe Tallahassee forceably stripped him then shoved him into it. That might be a little sexy...


	2. Chapter 2

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Whisper

The girls were wrapped tightly in a musty blanket, eyes fixated on the screen before them. The television was twittering away as Tallahassee pretended to watch, wondering at why the only movies in the house were zombie flicks. It wouldn't have been so bad, really, if they had all listened to him when he declared that he would like to watch Zombie Strippers, or Chopper Chicks in Zombietown. But Wichita had _accidentally_ broken both DVD's as she went to place them in the player, so they were watching Dawn of the Dead, a movie he'd seen hundreds of times before this shit storm had happened (and which had a decided lack of sexy bits).

Who would board themselves up in a mall, anyway? Keep moving and you've only gotta face a handful of zombies at once, stay in one place and they would accumulate. It was basic tactics. He snorted. Like Romero would know. Asshole. He was probably the reason the virus existed, probably inspired some mad scientist to develop it in retribution for all the wedgies and cramped lockers.

He let his eyes wander, over the screen, the blocked door, guns, and finally settled on Columbus, who had been staring at him.

"You got a problem?" He grunted. The kid looked at him with wide eyes, exuding an air of pure awkward that Tallahassee couldn't even begin to imagine living with.

"I saved Planet Terror. Its not really about zombies, but it might as well be. It has a stripper with a gun in her leg." Columbus whispered, eyes glancing towards Wichita. "But we'll have to wait till the girls have gone to sleep."

Tallahassee smirked, then leaned forward till his lips were millimeters from the boys ear.

"Hey. Were trying to watch a movie here, not some cheap, unappealing porno." Wichita declared, throwing the two a withering glare.

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French Maid

Tallahassee stumbled, gripped his skull, and let out a deep baritone moan. His head was pounding and his eyes felt like they were on fire. He'd probably had a few dozen too many. Couldn't stop after the first bottle, not with the kid handing him glass after glass between pretty seductive kisses and wandering fingers. The boy had likely been drunk off his rocker too, and that made him feel minutely better. Misery loves company and all that.

The door burst open and murderous white light poured into the dimly lit room.

"Tallahassee, me and the girls finished packing everything up. We're ready to go when you are."

So, maybe the little spit fuck hadn't been drunk. No way anyone could be that peppy and maintain a hangover. He squinted, looked towards the bed and found his things packed and ready to go.

"You need help? You had a lot to drink last night..." Columbus trailed off, moving to the side to allow more of the fucking sunlight to stream in. He clenched his eyes closed, reached down for his bag and stomped towards the Hummer, climbing in the back seat and covering his face with his hat. It was strangely cold today.

They had been driving for hours, and his hangover was slowly morphing from unpleasant to royally pissed. Why the hell had the kid given him that much? And why the fuck had they all been snickering and trying like hell to keep from laughing? He wanted to yell but he knew better. That would make the fucking pounding worse. He just wanted this to go the fuck away, so he could get back to whole-sale ass kicking.

And it was still fucking cold.

They'd stopped a few times, once to siphon gas from an abandoned car, another in search of food from a rest stop. He'd stayed in the car both times, too miserable to move, and when Columbus had handed him a bottle of water and some slim jims he almost started crying. This was the worst hangover he had ever experienced in his fucking life.

"Turn the fucking heater on." He muttered from behind his hat before removing it, screwing his eyes shut and taking a gulp of water. Wichita started snickering again. What the fuck ever. He was cold and in pain. He didn't have time to deal with her shit.

He'd started to feel better by the end of the night, when they'd managed to make camp in an old farmhouse. Little Rock had found the owner half eaten in the bathtub, no limbs or lower body, writhing about and moaning as he tried in vain to consume her. He'd been lying in the Hummer at the time, but Columbus had detailed the story for him after they'd boarded the windows. It was dark and they only had candlelight to see by, so Tallahassee removed his hat and wandered over towards the couch, intent to simply relax, when Columbus came over to him with a beer. He gagged a little and glared at the can, then towards Columbus.

The kid seemed to be trying exceptionally hard to keep a straight face, and when he looked over towards the girls he noted that they were doing the same.

"The fuck? I got something on my face?" He hissed, then flipped over, grimacing at the rough texture of the couch on his legs--

On his legs?

He looked down and let out a ferocious growl.

"So, Tallahassee, wanna be my little French maid?" Columbus queried, sipping idly from the can of beer.

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Authors Note:

Only two, but its now 7:45AM, and thats past my bed time. Sooo.

Again, I feel like I need to clarify a piece of this. This probably reflects my writing skills or my sleepy state of mind, but oh well. In French Maid, Columbus got Tallahassee really, really drunk so he could slip him into a French maid outfit. Honestly, I kinda like the idea of them putting each other in sexy costumes and I am considering creating a multi-chapter story based on this thought. And there are so many possibilities....

What say you? Yea? Nay?


End file.
